Nightwatch: Declan Cashin
Friday June 19 2009
Don't let anyone fool you: socialising is hard work. It's like a relationship in many respects. You have to keep finding new ways to spice it up and keep it exciting lest the whole thing goes off the boil, and suddenly you are one of those couples sitting in a restaurant staring blankly over one another's shoulders, with absolutely nothing left to talk about.
That, at any rate, is how it is with quite a few of my own friends. Most of the time we're all content with spending the odd night or three over any given weekend boozing and boogying in various pubs and clubs, but every now and then we will indulge in an intense and increasingly stressful move towards expanding our social horizons.
In such instances, it's usually a Saturday evening and we'll all be in one of our apartments making, admittedly unimaginative, plans. Then, one or more will switch into bored-lover drive and half-heartedly chime, "Oh? We're doing that again, are we? [sigh] Alright, let's just get it over with, I suppose." And all the while they're stifling yawns and examining their finger-nails.
Invariably, this attitude gets my back up. It's not as if it's solely my responsibility to ensure every single person enjoys themselves on a night out. But I'm a sensitive soul, gosh darn it, and so am alert to any such undercurrents of discontent among my posse.
"OK," I'll say calmly and diplomatically. "Does anyone have any suggestions as to what we should do instead?" This in turn will illicit the killer response: "I don't know, but let's do something different."
Being a born leader -- or is it chronic people-pleaser? -- I'll then throw myself into this new project with gusto and vow to find the outlet that will add the entertainment Viagra to my group's flaccid social life.
Sample conversation: "How about we go to the theatre?" I'll venture as a starting point. More often than not, though, this will illicit genuine bafflement from the majority. "I suppooooose ... " they'll drawl half-heartedly, before piping in with the classy query: "Oh, can we bring cans in with us?"
Hmm, maybe the theatre is too out-there. "We could go for dinner?" This one normally piques some interest. "I guessssssssss ... " they'll drone. But then the divisions emerge.
"Oh, we could go to such-and-such."
"Ew, that place is gank. Let's go here instead."
"I don't like their food. What about what's-it-called?"
"That's out in the middle of nowhere."
"What time could we go? What?? That's too early. I won't be ready ... "
At this point, I'll be massaging my temples and breathing with more control than a Lamaze teacher. "OK," I'll say through gritted teeth. "We could go to a gig and then go out? That'd shake things up, right?"
Looks and shrugs will be exchanged. "Maaaaaaaaaaaybe," they'll chant. That sounds positive. So we reach for a listings guide and start rattling through events.
"No. Hate them."
"Crap venue."
"She's only for emos."
"That place smells.
"You smell."
"What did you say to me?"
At this point I'll be scrunching up the paper in my fists, my eyes will start to twitch, and I'll find myself having to enunciate my words very slowly in order to remain calm. "Well, what about a movie and then we go out?"
This one, at least, unites them in response. "The cinema? On a Saturday night?" And then they'll give me a collective, "Aw, bless" look.
"Right! That's it. Do what you want. I'm sick of you all," I'll say, and then do what I assume every spouse and/or parent in the world does at least once a day: I storm off into a bedroom, close the door, shove my face into a pillow and scream until I feel my tonsils coming out through my nose.
Then I'll compose myself and return to the posse with a half-insane smile fixed on my face a la Annette Bening in American Beauty. "Right so, what's the plan?" I'll ask.
The gang will look from one to the other. The response, when it comes, will at this stage be as welcome as it is inevitable.
"Pub?"
- Declan Cashin
